


this splintered mast

by KelseyO



Category: Carmilla (Web Series)
Genre: (but it also works as a 33 rewrite), (okay so i wrote it as a post-32 scene), F/F, guilt and frustration and yelling and crying, i promise it ends in fluff okay, if you're sad about the episode, post-32, so y'know, this might make it better
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-20
Updated: 2014-11-20
Packaged: 2018-02-26 10:06:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,055
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2648006
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KelseyO/pseuds/KelseyO
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Laura.”</p><p>The voice is breathless and tight and definitely not coming from her computer speakers, and she doesn’t notice the angry tears in her own eyes until she looks at Carmilla standing in the bathroom doorway and only sees a vague, dark blur.</p><p>“What did you do?” she demands, the words quiet and hard and trembling.</p><p>“Forget to delete that footage, apparently,” Carmilla mutters, and she probably intends it to be a joke, but her tone is dull and tired.</p><p>(Post-32, but also an accidental 33 rewrite. Angst with a fluffy-ish ending. Title from "Make This Go On Forever" by Snow Patrol.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	this splintered mast

_Please don’t let this turn into something it’s not_  
_I can only give you everything I’ve got_  
_And I can’t be as sorry as you think I should_  
_But I still love you more than anyone else could_

.

Carmilla told her it was poison, tucked Laura’s hair behind her ear and squeezed her shoulder and told her she’s fine, that everything’s fine, but it’s bugging the _crap_ out of her that she can’t remember what actually happened.

She doesn’t know how she got from her computer chair to her bed, or why Carmilla’s been so quiet all day, or why it takes her several hours to remember that she has a semi-perpetually-recording camera in her room; there’s also the matter of JP’s flash drive mysteriously vanishing, which she ponders as she brings Carmilla’s chair over to her desk (Carmilla said someone down the hall asked to borrow hers, which wouldn’t be the weirdest thing to ever happen in their building, Laura supposes) and takes a sip of cocoa.

It takes some time to scroll through her video folder—something in her chest tightens when she sees a still of Betty convincing her to go to that party, and it gets even worse when she remembers Danny was the deciding factor in her accepting Betty’s invitation—but she downs more cocoa and finds the most recent addition to the feed, then hits “play”.

_“Yeah, well, my mother fed the only person I cared about to a monster, and maybe I don’t feel like letting that happen again.”_

Her brow furrows, because she somehow managed to completely miss the deeper implications of that “again” the first time around.

 _“I mean, I know that you’re not just doing it for me,”_ she watches herself say, and she actually winces, because upon further review of this conversation, it turns out she’s a complete—

 _“Don’t be an idiot,”_ webcam-Carmilla finishes for her, rising from her bed and slowly approaching webcam-Laura, _“Of course I’m doing it for you.”_

Laura swallows hard at the sincerity in Carmilla’s tone but clears her throat and keeps watching, because this is the last thing she remembers before she blacked out, and she leans forward as webcam-Carmilla tries to snatch the necklace from her only to flinch away like she’d been burned; then she watches herself rise from her now-missing computer chair and turn to face Carmilla, and by now her breath is frozen in her throat.

_“Hello, Mother.”_

Her eyes are wide and heart pounding behind her rib cage as body does things she can’t remember, as her mouth says words with a voice that simultaneously is and isn’t her own, and she’s actually shaking a little by the time Will drags Kirsch from the room.

“Laura.”

The voice is breathless and tight and definitely not coming from her computer speakers, and she doesn’t notice the angry tears in her own eyes until she looks at Carmilla standing in the bathroom doorway and only sees a vague, dark blur.

“What did you do?” she demands, the words quiet and hard and trembling.

“Forget to delete that footage, apparently,” Carmilla mutters, and she probably intends it to be a joke, but her tone is dull and tired.

Laura is clutching the edge of her desk in a white-knuckle grip and trying to keep her breathing steady. “I—Kirsch didn’t even—he just wanted to help, and he had _no_ idea what he was getting himself into… God, he doesn’t even _know_ anything. It’s _me_ they should’ve taken, it’s always been me.”

“Laura…”

“At least when you gave me the bat wing charm, you didn’t know it would be LaFontaine taking my place. But this time you knew—you knew _exactly_ who, and—” There’s a growing lump in her throat and she feels like she’s about to erupt. “How _could_ you?”

Carmilla hasn’t moved a muscle, like she’s afraid getting even an inch closer to Laura will only make things worse. “I did what I—”

“No,” Laura practically shouts, “you’re _not_ allowed to—”

“To what? To defend the impossible decision my mother forced me to make?” She crosses her arms tightly across her chest. “She had me backed into a corner, Laura. What would you have had me do?”

Laura turns in her chair to face Carmilla. “Not sacrifice Kirsch just so you could—so you could _keep me_ ,” she quotes with a disgusted frown. “I’m not yours, and I’m not Danny’s, and I’m sure as hell not some helpless puppy that needs—”

“I _know_ ,” Carmilla snaps, “and I never said you were. Those were my mother’s words, not mine. And you know what?” she continues before Laura can get another word in, “Maybe it was selfish, and maybe it was the wrong choice altogether, but maybe I just can’t bear the thought of—” Carmilla stops herself in midsentence, and the emotions that flash across her face remind Laura a lot of the “ _again_ ” from the video.

“Can’t bear the thought of what?” she asks quietly.

Carmilla shakes her head and tries to hide the tear that rolls down her cheek, then turns around and goes back into the bathroom, slamming the door behind her so hard that Laura feels the floor vibrate beneath her feet.

The room is eerily silent now and Laura’s eyes drift back to the computer screen; she lets out a long, slow breath and rewinds the clip, then watches it again but focuses only on Carmilla this time, and her stomach twists into knots as she takes in the grimaces, the clenching jaw, the tension seeming to permeate every inch of Carmilla’s body as her mother sucks all hope from the room. Laura glances at the bathroom door, then back at the screen, then buries her face in her hands and heaves one of the heaviest sighs that’s ever passed through her lungs.

After several long moments she’s out of the chair and digging through her dresser until she pulls out a plain t-shirt and her favorite flannel pajama pants, then switches clothes as quickly as possible before all but yanking the braids out of her hair and brushing it back to its normal appearance.

She grabs her yellow pillow, tiptoes over to the bathroom door, and knocks gently. “Carm?” Rather than wait for an answer she’s not expecting she turns the knob and lets herself in, and finds Carmilla sitting on the floor with her back against the only empty wall in the room. Her knees are pulled against her chest and she’s fiddling with what looks like the remnants of a hand towel that she’s torn to shreds, and her eyes remain on the floor as Laura closes the door behind her.

“I’ll buy a new one,” Carmilla murmurs, tearing another piece in half as if it were a cheap paper napkin.

Laura takes a step closer and Carmilla’s eyes find the hem of her pants, then drift up to her t-shirt, to her hair falling around her shoulders, and finally to the pillow, and the way Carmilla sags in relief is probably unintentional. She kneels down to the tile and watches Carmilla shrink back just a little, sees the slight tremors in her fingers. “Lean forward for a second?”

Carmilla stays absolutely still at first, to the point where Laura wonders if she’s just going to ignore her, but then she finally obeys and the movement is slow, like the simple task is exhausting. Laura tucks the pillow carefully behind her back then shifts until she’s sitting beside her, and now if she could just come up with something brilliant to say—

“I’m sorry.” Carmilla’s words are small and sound like they barely make it out of her throat. “I’m…” She makes an odd sound, somewhere between a sob and an exasperated sigh. “Laura, I’m _so_ sorry,” she repeats, but now her voice is wobbling. “Mama has never been one to play fair, and I should’ve—I should’ve known she would pull something like that, I’m sorry.” Carmilla sniffs and digs her fingers into her own hair. “God, I’m so sorry.”

“I’m sorry too,” Laura says after a beat. “For blowing up at you. It’s not like you wanted any of this to happen.” Now she folds her legs and pulls her knees up to her chin. “Besides, _I’m_ the one who put the evil-looking necklace on in the first place. I’m the idiot who was stupid enough to take the bait.”

Carmilla shrugs a shoulder. “Even if you’d avoided that particular trap, she would’ve just set up another one. It’s only ever a matter of time.” She worries her bottom lip before glancing at Laura. “Why _did_ you put it on?” Carmilla mutters. “Surely that’s something Giles or Professor McGonagall would have taught you is extremely ill-advised.”

“I told you, I…” Laura grimaces a little. “I sort of thought you’d left it out… for me.”

Carmilla tilts her head back against the wall. “That’s probably what she was counting on.”

Laura wets her lips as she thinks about the video again. “She possessed me.”

“She did,” Carmilla replies quietly, like she’s still trying to process it herself.

“Will there be any… side effects? Like, am I okay?”

She shakes her head. “You might have some weird dreams for a few nights, but there’s usually nothing beyond that.”

“Weird dreams, huh?” Laura deadpans, “God forbid.” She sort of vaguely hopes Carmilla will laugh at that, but of course she doesn’t, and Laura glances over to find Carmilla’s eyes glassy and red. “Hey,” she whispers softly, reaching out shift Carmilla’s bangs out of her face; at first Carmilla flinches away from the contact, but Laura keeps her hand’s movements slow and steady and soon Carmilla’s leaning into the touch instead, her eyelids drooping closed as Laura’s fingertips ghost along her temple, her jaw, her chin, and then she’s resting her forehead on Laura’s shoulder while her own shake with quiet sobs.

Laura’s arm is around her before the thought even crosses her mind. “Shhhhh, I’m right here,” she murmurs. “I’m right here, Carm. It’s me.”

The words have Carmilla’s hand grasping a fistful of Laura’s shirt and squeezing for all she’s worth, as if something terrible might happen again if she’s not holding on. “I didn’t know what else to do,” she croaks. “She keeps robbing me of whatever I love, and I just can’t—” She’s choking out more tears against Laura’s shirt. “I didn’t know what else to do.”

Laura lets herself breathe in and out a few times before speaking. “Thank you for saving my life,” she says, brushing her thumb back and forth along Carmilla’s shoulder. “Again.”

“I’m going to _implore_ you not to repeat your speech about heroic notions,” Carmilla says as she slowly sits up, but Laura keeps her arm firmly in place.

“Sorry to burst your bubble, but no matter how selfish or hopeless or wretched you’re convinced you are, I’m still gonna think of you as my hero.” Carmilla’s eyes find hers in less than a microsecond and she feels her cheeks burn red. “I mean, _a_ hero. _The_ hero. Heroic. And stuff.”

Carmilla looks at her long and hard. “You’re entirely foolish,” she mutters, then pauses as she takes her bottom lip between her teeth. “Then again, so am I,” she continues, and leans over to rest her head against Laura’s shoulder once more.

Laura smiles just a little and gently rubs her hand up and down Carmilla’s arm, and a bit more when Carmilla’s knuckles brush against the side of her thigh then remain resting against the soft flannel of her pajamas.

“I’m sorry,” Carmilla whispers one last time.

“I know.”

The silence isn’t eerie this time as Laura thinks about the video, thinks about an unseen Being taking control of her body, about Kirsch’s absolute trust in his friends, about Carmilla’s gentle, concerned touches when Laura collapsed onto her bed at the end of it all, and eventually can’t hold back a long, heavy yawn.

“I think it’s time for bed, Carm.”

The warm body beside her doesn’t stir, and she glances down to find Carmilla already asleep.

Laura reaches over again and carefully tucks Carmilla’s hair behind her ear. “Worst roommate ever,” she whispers to herself as she rests her head on top of Carmilla’s and closes her eyes.


End file.
